You leave Davian, taking the wine you deservedly won by defending his winery, not to mention life.

https://www.dndbeyond.com/atta.../691/600/761/022.jpg

The familiar road winds through the foggy woods for hours on end. All the time you feel like you're being watched, but you see nothing.

The road branches north and climbs a rocky escarpment, ending at a gatehouse built into a twenty-foot-high wall of stone reinforced with buttresses every fifty feet or so. The wall encloses a settlement on the side of a snow-dusted mountain spur. Beyond the wall you see the tops of snow-covered pines and thin, white wisps of smoke. The somber toll of a bell comes from a stone abbey that clings to the mountainside high above the settlement. The steady chime is inviting—a welcome change from the deathly silence and oppressive fog to which you have grown accustomed. It’s hard to tell at this distance, but there seems to be a switchback road clinging to the cliffs that lead up from the walled settlement to the abbey.

But you notice the road continues west, into the white mist. You could ignore the return to Krezk and continue this way. A way you did not notice when you left Krezk. Because you turned left when you left. You would have had to turn right to go that way. But now you have to turn right to go to Krezk, and if you went straight you would go into the mist.

“Well?” Jun Jia asked Chokhar dryly. “Isn’t that the way to Krezk?” She waited with an expectant look, an eyebrow raised in bemusement.

"...I mislike these twisted paths," said Ceila.  "This land is strange; such things should not change."

"It is", the barbarian answered, oblivious to the snarky undertone. "This up here must be the monastery the burgomaster mentioned. Krezk is down here on the right side. We better hurry, or we'll have drank all that wine before reaching the town."

Chuckling at his own joke, Chokahr eased the chariot down the right path towards Krezk. He was loathe to admit it, but Ceila's words rang true to his ears. This land was twisted, and it was playing tricks on them. Chokahr feared that witches, druids or plant monsters were not the worst this countryside would throw at them.

Taking the right path is the right path, correct.
The air grows colder as you approach the walled settlement. Two square towers with peaked roofs flank a stone archway into which is set a pair of twelve-foot-tall, ironbound wooden doors. Carved into the arch above the doors is a name: Krezk.
The walls that extend from the gatehouse are twenty feet high. Atop the parapet you see four figures wearing fur hats and clutching spears. They watch you nervously.

"It's all right! They bring wine!"

"Nay! Hold! It could be a trap. It could be Strahd."

"Idiot. If it was Strahd he would just fly through, taking a bite out of your stupid neck on his way. They have wine. Open the gates."

The gates open without any proof from you. The mist-shrouded village beyond the wall is nothing more than a scattering of humble wooden cottages along dirt roads that stretch between stands of snow-dusted pine trees—so many trees, in fact, as to constitute a forest. To the northeast, gray cliffs rise sharply, and the road winding up to the abbey is easy to see from this vantage. Curious heads poke out of windows to watch you, licking their thirsty lips.

There is not a tavern to take the wine to, where do you go?

Locations:
Your house.
Burgomaster's house.
Random house.
Shrine and Pool at the north of town.
Head toward the Abbey???
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:33, Tue 17 Aug 2021.

Going back to the man handing out the orders - and perhaps the money - seemed like the right thing to do, so Chokahr steered the wagon towards the burgomaster's house.

"There's your wine for now, mayor," he called out, slapping the heavy barrels with his dirty hand. "Might not be the end of your troubles, mind you. The winemakers have got bigger problems, and somebody will have to help them if you want more of those barrels in the future. And I completely forgot to tell them about the ale, what with all the fighting going on."

Still suffering from lingering effects of the wounds he'd taken from the blighted stick-creatures, Vyktor of Rosewylde had been quiet during the return to Krezk. He seemed to snap out of it somewhat as ominous thunder rolled when the guards atop the towers invoked the name of the so-called Devil.

Something seemed to be nagging at him a bit, like an itch in the center of one's back when adorned in armor...

Mystery rolllz: Vyktor Rosewylde rolled 50 using 3d20 ((14,17,19)).

He glanced in the direction of the manor he'd laid claim to prior to their departure to procure the wine. Perhaps...?

The house-your house-seems all is well. You feel drawn to it as if it welcomes you back. But all is well, your paranoia is just getting the best of you. All is well.

The Burgomaster told you of their recently passed son, Ilya. Still dressed in the mourning clothes he and his wife practically rush out of their home to greet you.

"Oh thank you and your gods, praise to the Morning Lord as well of course. We are saved. Wine for mourning, and then for gladness. Thank you thank you."

Your payment, as promised, 25gp each.

"Well, it's something," said Ceila.  "Shall we take a look at the shrine?  I wonder what passes for clergy in this land, if they can't purify tainted wine..."

Chokahr scratched his head, juggling his coin pouch with the other hand. The additional weight felt good - provided he could find something useful on which to spend his well-deserved riches. This countryside did not look all too promising in the way of taverns, brothels, or smithies. Following Ceila on church-hopping didn't seem like the most entertaining prospect either, but in all fairness, there was little more to do. He nodded at his companion, pocketing the gold.

"Yeah, why not. Maybe the priests have heard from this Baba Gasyla, or what's-her-name. Maybe they have an idea what can be done about her. Or maybe they have an interest in brewing some real ale, so we can finally get something decent to drink, at least in a few weeks."

"Burgomaster, we appreciate your prompt payment, please keep us in mind if there are future needs of the Burg which we might help with."

Glancing in the direction of the manor, Vyktor added, "Also, I'm in search of staff as it were, a servant, a groomsman, and ultimately a squire. Should you come across anyone willing, qualified, able and... brave enough for such consideration, you'll let me know, will you not?"

To his companions he agreed, "I'm interested in seeing the shrine as well. And then we should discuss the threads we left dangling at the Wizards of Wine..."

"Agreed," said Ceila.  "To the abbey, then.  I'd like to know who or what they worship here... but the druids need to be dealt with, yes."

Jun Jia nodded. “We left families in danger, and that Baba will inevitably turn her attentions here in the near future. We should heed other voices in this party and resolve that problem soon.”

You turn your head toward the abbey and consider that your next destination. As you take the path uphill the pool to the northwest catches your eye.

Even under gray skies, this pool at the north end of the village shimmers and sparkles. Near its shore sits an old gazebo on the verge of collapse. A wooden statue of a mournful, bare-chested man, its paint chipped and faded, stands in the gazebo with arms outstretched, as though waiting to be embraced.

Check it out? Continue toward the abbey?

The pitiful statue caught Jun Jia’s eye. She paused long enough to look over the wooden carving of the morose man. The statue reminded Jia of the lessons about Suffering that she’d learned at the monastery. Her encounter with inanimate objects in the cursed house instilled a healthy caution. She wouldn’t touch the statue, much less hug it, but she’d look at it with a discerning eye.

Your experience tells you this water is more than natural. It is miraculously clean, unlike most everything you have encountered in this world.

A young man, about age 13 approaches you curiously. "This is the Shrine of the White Sun, that's the Morning Lord... he looks around to make sure no adults are near to hear him, "Between you and me, I don't believe the Morning Lord is real. If he was, why does he let everything suck like this? Why does he let Strahd stay in power. They say Strahd used to be the Morning Lord's champion. And they say the Abbot in the Abbey came from heaven to redeem Strahd. But no one says what happened. All I know is that the Morning Lord sucks."

He tosses a rock into the pool. But then he turns to Ceila while pointing at Vyktor, "Is he your boyfriend???"

In reply to DM (msg # 16):

Jia giggled at the boy’s question for Ceila. When her laughter passed, she gestured at the water. “May I drink…?” The water looked refreshing, refreshingly clean for the dour world of decay that they wandered. A sip of cool water looked quite inviting.

"I'm not familiar with the Morning Lord," said Ceila.  "Does he have power in this world...?
 Ah, you may find that Jia isn't available, if you're looking for a girlfriend, though," she added.